


Dulce Et Decorum Est

by LoquitorLatinae



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, At least in Dorian's mind, Bull starts as a Gladiator, Dorian is a Senator, Felix is a Good Bro, M/M, Mae is a Good Bro, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Slavery, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, hints of dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6311524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoquitorLatinae/pseuds/LoquitorLatinae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ancient Rome AU. Dorian is a Senator who is not only gay but also prefers the submissive role, a fact that could easily ruin his reputation. His social status being what it is, he has difficulty finding partners who would be quiet about any relationship they had but finds the idea of using a slave like that decidedly distasteful. Still, when he buys Bull as a bodyguard, he can't help but notice just how big and muscular his new slave is, and decides that he has found a wonderful new way to torture himself.</p><p>Written for a kink meme prompt~!</p><p>We're pretending the Qunari exist in this Ancient Rome AU. Nothing against human!Bull--I just really like Qunari!Bull. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Latin Fact of the Day: the Latin word for sand is "arena." The great majority of all of the coliseums in the Roman Empire had sand on the ground where the competitors would fight, which is why the word arena became synonymous with coliseum (and is why we have places like "sporting arenas" today!),

Dorian Thalrassia Pavus, heir of his father’s illustrious Senator title, sometimes wished he could simply escape to his family’s villa in the hills by Perivantium. Not for too long, just a few months or so. Long enough to enjoy the vineyard and eel pond and the innumerable scrolls lining the shelves, begging to be read. Long enough so that his ever-present headache over the idiocy of his peers could fade into something tolerable.

He wanted to be far enough away that he could simply be. Not constantly looking over his shoulder, not stealing dirty moments with men in alleys or low-class bath houses where others would not immediately recognize his face. And certainly not being forced through obligation to attend a crowded, smelly afternoon with Rome’s preferred blood sport, the Coliseum.

“Can you not look as if you have just swallowed a rotten egg, Dorian?” Sitting beside him, Maevaris lightly smacked his arm. “We are here to show that you have some appreciation for Roman culture, after all. Should the emperor see that pout, you will be accused of worse than being too interested in Epicurian poetry and its hedonism.”

Dorian rolled his eyes but set a polite smile on his lips in case anyone was watching, inevitable considering that everyone sitting around them were related in some way to the patrician class. “As if my poetry or other…interests are any worse than the true frivolity displayed in all the parties and dinners and invitations to increasingly gaudy villas.”

“You can’t tell me that you do not enjoy the performance.”

“I do enjoy it, of course, you are right.” And he did. Even now he was wearing a toga befitting a senator of his wealth. The wool was straight from Apulia, the finest money could buy—he preferred silk but the toga was the uniform of the patricians--and the purple edging was actual Tyrian purple dye rather than the cheap imitation color some senators tried to get away with. He decorated himself with gold rings, a necklace, and had gone so far as to put on perfume and outline his eyes in Egyptian kohl. No one could say that Dorian Pavus did not know how to dress himself.

Beside him, Maeveris was just as elegant with her elaborate blond wig of curls and delicate application of rouge and lip paint, her layered stola draped modestly yet elegantly about her body. As the progeny of a fellow Senator, she always kept her public appearance pristine. It helped quell most talk of why she had yet to marry. Dorian was one of the few men approved to take her on excursions from the Tilani home, which she generally used to her advantage.

“I still can’t believe you have an interest in this sort of thing,” Dorian grumbled as he watched the gladiators marched out onto the field to present to the emperor. His frown lifted just for a moment when one of his slaves, a lithe elf named Attia, returned to their seats with food from a local restaurant. It was simple fare of flatbread with cheese and onions baked on top but it was food and Dorian knew he needed to eat now while he still had an appetite.

Mae sniffed. “I am doing this for you, my dear, and your political career. One of us has to worry about it, after all” She rose one condescending brow to him even as she delicately took her portion of the food. “I would think you would enjoy the spectacle, though, seeing so much virility.”

Dorian hissed out a warning noise and he looked around to see if anyone was paying them too much attention but, no, they were engrossed with the beginnings of the game and the noise of their cheering kept their conversation all but private. Only Attia was within hearing range and she had heard much worse in her service. “Just because you know of my private life doesn’t mean that all of the Senate and people of Rome needs to know as well. And if you must know, I find it all quite pleasant until they begin stabbing and beating each other to death at the whims of a raucous crowd.” At one time in his life, Dorian had found the gladiator arena exhilarating but after seeing one too many scared, young man die, it had lost its luster.

Even still, Dorian maintained a small, entertained smile as the gladiator matches got underway. He kept watching even as the sand began to turn red, the spectators demanding death more often than not, and clapped politely as he winner of each match paraded about. The bloodlust of the crowd was almost infectious if not for the screams of the gladiators as they fell on another’s blade.

It was a relief when the final battle ended, the victor pulling his sword from the other’s chest with a flourish. The gladiator waved it overhead like a trophy, swinging it about as he made his way toward Emperor Valerius’s box and stood below it for the traditional empty congratulations. Dorian gathered the folds of his toga and stood, prepared to leave and beat the rush but stopped when the emperor held up his hand to silence the crowd. “I have been told we have one more challenge!” He called out.

With a gesture, one of the gates in the area was opening, one that led down to the animal pens. Dorian had nearly the same view as the gladiator and felt his breath leave him as a hulking Qunari stumbled through the gate. It was rare to see one in person. Certainly, everyone had heard of the Qunari, a race of creatures to the East who had proven too strong for Rome to conquer, descended, some say, from the minotaur from Crete. They were barbarians either way. Dorian had heard they did not give names to their children, that they had no concept of fathers and mothers but rather bred like a herd of animals.

Dorian himself had only seen a handful of Qunari in his lifetime and every time they had been collared, chained, and subdued. Seeing one in person, unbound and aggressive, was entirely different. Dorian’s eyes flashed over the thing’s grey skin, his wide horns. One of its eyes was lost, nothing more than a mess of scar tissue. His whole body looked war-torn and dangerous. And exhilarating. “Gods,” Dorian breathed out as he dropped back into his seat. Dread pooled in his stomach as he realized just how enraptured he was with the Qunari’s appearance alone—he hadn’t realized the depth of his own depravity.

“Dorian?” Mae asked, “Are you alright?”

Dorian hushed her, gaze locked on the arena below as the Qunari released a bellow that echoed through the Coliseum. It was a ferocious sound. The horned beast stalked toward the victorious gladiator. He had no weapon but it was obvious to all that he didn’t need one. The crowd responded to the spectacle with an answering roar of excitement as the fighters matched off. The gladiator ducked to the Qunari’s blind side as he came within arm’s length, sword swinging. The Qunari seemed to anticipate the move and turned to face the gladiator. He caught the blade in one hand as if it were made of wood and wrenched it away from the man, his grin visible even from where Dorian was sitting.

The fight did not last long after that. The gladiator was obviously terrified. With his gladius halfway across the arena, all he had left was a dagger and his swings were haphazard at best. The Qunari easily dodged them, gaining only grazing cuts that would have otherwise been fatal wounds, and with a single hit to the side of the head, the man was down. Dorian was certain the man was dead before he hit the sandy ground.

The crowd went wild as the Quanari lifted his head and yelled something in a foreign language—some victory cry no doubt. Then he looked to the emperor, spat on the sand, then walked back to the tunnel where he had come from.

As soon as the Qunari disappeared back into the interworking of the Coliseum it was as if a spell was broken and Dorian suddenly remembered to breathe. He also knew, to the depth of his being, that he needed more. Mae had a smile on her lips like she knew exactly what was going through Dorian’s mind as he stood. “Don’t give me that look,” he sniped, keeping his chin high. “Have Attia escort you home, I am not sure how long this will take.”

“As you say, Senator Pavus,” Mae hummed. Her lips had curled into a teasing smile. “Do call on me soon and let me know what happens with whatever it is you are planning.”

“I will be sure to tell you, my dear. When have I not?"

The trip down to the animal holding cells was dirty, tight, and dark. Down here, there was no fine marble or statues. It was a utilitarian as a soldier’s fort with far less care for its inhabitants. Dorian had his toga bundled as high as was socially acceptable but still knew that it was dragging in the wet, putrid dirt. The animal handler had been somewhat confused but had humored Dorian as someone of his rank had to and led him to the cell where the Qunari was being held.

The brute was inside, wiping at one of his cuts with a dirty cloth. Being this close only emphasized how large he really was. He easily towered over Dorian by about two heads and was nearly twice as broad. The Qunari seemed to be intentionally focused on cleaning himself up but Dorian’s white toga must have caught his attention because he looked up with some surprise before the emotion turned a lazy smile. “Afternoon. Enjoy the show?”

Dorian shouldn’t have been so surprised that the Qunari spoke Latin but he was, enough that he only managed to blink for a moment before he turned to the handler. “It is common enough practice to purchase a gladiator’s contract. How much for this one?”

“The Iron Bull?” The handler scratched his beard. “He came at great expense to us straight from the edge of the Empire.” His eyes scanned Dorian’s fine jewelry and toga and Dorian knew then that the purchase would be possible, but very expensive. Possible was the important part because Dorian was willing to spend as much denarii as necessary to own ‘the Iron Bull.’

The price of the Iron Bull turned out to be approximately half of Dorian’s annual income. Which was in line with what he had been anticipating, if not a little less—undoubtedly he would have been charged more by someone with a better estimation of what he could afford. So he wrote out a quick contract promising that one of his representatives would deliver the coin within two days’ time and then the door to the cage opened and Coliseum workers clapped manacles around the Qunari’s hands and feet. Then Dorian was faced with a realization.

He’d just purchased a Qunari slave who could easily kill him with one blow. Or gore him with those massive horns. As the Iron Bull shuffled out of the cage, Dorian managed a smile. “The Iron Bull, my name is Senator Dorian Thalrassia Pavus and I have just purchased your contract. That means I now own you and I would appreciate if, for both of our sakes, you did not rip off my limbs, beat in my head, or anything else of the sort. Is that clear?”

The Iron Bull was smiling a smug little smile. Other patricians Dorian knew would most likely already be trying to beat it out of the creature but Dorian doubted that a lash or cane would feel like anything more than an irritant. That, and he didn’t find the smile all that offensive. More infuriatingly charming, really. “Got it.” The Qunari grunted. “Not making any promises, though. One question: will I fit through your doorways or will I be stuck in some animal pen because I don’t fit in the house?”

A sharp laugh escaped Dorian at the absurdity of the question but he let his eyes scan between Bull’s shoulders and the width of his horns. “You’ve clearly never seen a domus of any class before. You will fit through this door and the ones in my villa as well. Now, we’ll need a cart so I don’t have to wait for you to shuffle halfway across Rome.”

Thankfully, the Iron Bull did fit through his door. Dorian turned to watch the Qunari enter the atrium. With both of the front doors open, there was no chance he wouldn’t have made it, though Dorian did note that the Iron Bull had to duck his head just slightly to get his horns through even if width was not a problem.

Attia had already made it home and closed the doors behind them, the poor thing wide-eyed as she skirted around the Qunari. Taking pity, Dorian nodded to her, “Go out and get something for dinner. Large portions—I imagine that my food bill is about to increase substantially. Have someone at the restaurant carry it back if you can’t manage.”

When Attia nodded and darted off, Dorian clasped his hands behind his back and turned to the Iron Bull. The reality of what he had just done was starting to settle in. Paying for the Qunari in the Coliseum had been one thing but to actually have him in his home was another.

He could hardly admit that he had purchased his new slave for his body. Dorian Pavus was not the type of senator who purchased body-slaves. There was, however, another role that needed to be filled. It might have been a few weeks since someone last tried to stab him but he had been toying around with the thought of purchasing a guard. Some old soldier who had sold himself to pay off a debt. He had been avoiding it because he hadn’t wanted anyone from outside invading his personal life but if the bodyguard was something that could at least provide a pleasurable sight then that might just be a decent solution.

“I’ll admit you were somewhat of an impulse buy,” Dorian began, lifting his chin so that he could look the Iron Bull in the eyes. “That said, I have been in the market for a bodyguard for some time. For your notes, assassination attempts generally pick up on tax days and voting seasons. I will provide you with armor, weapons of your choice, food, and a place to sleep. In return, I only ask that you kill the people attempting to kill me rather than aid them in their attempts and that you behave yourself with Attia. Do we have an agreement?”

The Iron Bull grinned then nodded. “We’ve got an agreement. For now.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the great comments~! It's great to see people enjoying the story! :)

The Iron Bull had been with Dorian’s household for three months now and had found his place there surprisingly quickly and so completely that Dorian could hardly imagine how he had functioned without the Qunari. Not only was he a delightfully imposing shadow when Dorian went out into public, but he was surprisingly useful in the home too. Dorian had never considered how valuable it was to have someone so strong—and such a lovely sight it was when he had Bull move pieces of furniture about the house. He had also never realized quite how much he had been letting the house go. Attia, after all, had only been able to complete so many chores in a day so things like regular dusting, polishing, and gardening had been set aside as tasks for a free moment. It wasn't until Dorian looked about his mansion and noticed just how clean it was that he had been able to acknowledge to himself that it had been previously on its way to disrepair.

At the moment, Dorian was at his writing desk in his bedroom, sorting through the various letters and messages that had been delivered to his house while he sat in the Senate and debated inanely-specific aspects of Roman law. He even had a headache building between his temples because of his latest session but the mail was not going to sort itself.

Several were from freedmen under his family’s patronage with various requests or questions about legal processes. Those he set aside for later so that he could devote actual time and attention to them. The remaining notes were invitations to various events. As a senator, he was a popular party guest—as Dorian Pavus even more so. Not only was he from one of the wealthiest families in the Empire but now he had a Qunari bodyguard as spectacular party décor.

Most of the invitations he threw into a burn pile but one caught his attention. It was an invitation to a dinner party hosted by Gereon Alexius. Alexius was a fellow senator, had been a mentor for years. They had fallen out some two years ago over a law that would have given newly-made freedmen easier access to citizenship benefits. Dorian had believed that if they had been able to earn their freedom from slavery then they deserved all that any other Roman citizen enjoyed. Alexius had been of the mind that offering the same amount of welfare benefits would be too expensive to a people who he did not consider official citizens of the Empire.

In the end, the discussion had become too heated and words had been exchanged that could never be forgiven. After that, their opinions in the Senate had nearly always been contrary so it was a surprise to see the invitation. Perhaps Dorian’s influence and importance among the senators had finally risen to the point that it would be a scandal not to invite him. The thought was more comforting than it perhaps should have been.

A visit to the Alexius estate would also mean the chance to meet with Felix. He and Dorian had always been as close as brothers and the most painful part of his feud with Gereon had been his forced separation from Felix, who had been ill for years and steadily declining in health. Other than Mae, Felix was the one person whom Dorian fully trusted with everything that he was. It would be worth it, to see him again—perhaps for the last time—even if he had to play nice with Gereon for a few hours.

Standing, Dorian quickly made his way out of his bedroom to the larger of his home’s courtyard. It was tucked in the far back of the property and while the first courtyard functioned as a small garden, Bull had cleared the back of everything except some low grass and decorative flowers around the edges and this was where his bodyguard spent most of his time training.

Sure enough, Dorian found him hacking away at a straw-stuffed dummy, the broad axe Dorian had purchased for him glinting in the sun with each swing.

For a moment, Dorian could only admire him and his form. Having someone of Bull’s physique was proving a form of masochism, he was sure. To protect his own secret dalliances with men, Dorian had long ago let go of all of his family’s slaves except for Attia. The elf had proven herself loyal to him and, in return, she had been the only one he had trusted to keep her silence. In exchange, he treated her well. Let her come and go during the day, have friends outside the house, even gave her an allowance for food and trinkets. He had done the same for Bull out of habit and the Qunari had taken well to the loose leash. Word of his escapades at the whorehouses, for example, had reached even Dorian’s ears.

Apparently he was quite the charmer.

Dorian fantasized about being picked up and fucked against the wall by the Iron Bull but rationalized that forcing sex upon his bodyguard could very well be a death sentence for him, either politically or physically should Bull decide to retaliate. So he kept an aloofness toward the whole matter and put up a wall of superiority—not a terribly difficult thing to maintain.

“Need something, boss?”

Dorian blinked and felt his face heat when he found Bull had stopped his workout sometime during his daydreaming and was now smirking at him. And all the while he must have been staring at Bull like some idiot. Frowning through his embarrassment, Dorian held up the invitation. “I am attending a dinner at Senator Alexius’s townhouse tomorrow and you will be coming with me.” He paused a moment, looking Bull up and down before a smile curled onto his lips that soothed his blush. He was allowed a little fun here and there. “It won’t due to have you in full armor. Bring a light weapon but otherwise have Attia help do that paint thing everywhere.”

“The vitaar?” Bull asked, raising a brow.

“Yes, that. But none of that toxic nonsense. I had Attia buy some crimson paint a while back—use that. And gold for the horns.”

“So I assume you’re showing off for a reason? Other than finding an excuse to get me pretty?”

Dorian sputtered. Bull’s attitude was something he was still getting used to. The Qunari seemed to shamelessly flirt with anything that moved regardless of social status. That sort of nonsense hadn't been beaten out of him and Dorian tried very hard not to find it as charming as it was unexpected. “You—stop, I told you not to try and wink. Stop being ridiculous. Really, sometimes I think I am too lenient…” He trailed off then squared his shoulders to compose himself and waved his hand to brush away all lingering thoughts. “But when am I not showing off? Humility is for people who are less wealthy and half as handsome It is simply that Senator Alexius is undoubtedly going to be a pompous ass at some point during the evening so I might as well start things off with the right foot forward.”

“You worried something will happen?”

“No, of course not.” The only thing he was worried about was the possibility of humiliation. Gereon was a snake. Dorian’s worst nightmare would be if he somehow found out about his proclivities toward men. Worse still if the man found out that he preferred the submissive role. Ah, and now the anxiety was starting to settle in, which was decidedly unpleasant when added with his headache. “I need some wine,” he decided. “I need to start building my tolerance for drink tonight so that I won’t get too drunk too quickly tomorrow.”

“Not sure that’s how it works, boss.”

“It is when I say it is. I’ll be in my bedroom. Have Attia bring the wine and some food and then go polish your weapons or whatever it is you do and no, do not make that a pun or I swear to the gods that I will make your life miserable.”

The Alexius’s urban townhome was as established and sprawling as Dorian’s but was almost jarringly full of life in comparison. Nearly a dozen slaves from the household alone buzzed around the space, tending to the party guests and showing the slaves they had brought where the food and wine were located. The décor was opulent. Nearly every wall featured a fresco of fountains or cornucopias or dancing nymphs and the floors were tiled with intricate mosaics. Oil lamps hung blazing every few feet, lighting the rooms almost as bright as day.

Dorian was relieved now that he had worn his best toga and had pulled out nearly every piece of his best jewelry, a ring on just about every finger and two even on his index fingers. It was ostentatious, but it needed to be to stand out in this setting. Bull finished the image as he ducked into the atrium behind Dorian. The crimson vitaar designs nearly glowed on top of his grey skin and the flames from the oil lamps bounced of he gold tipping his horns. Shirtless and menacing even with only one small dagger on his belt, he was truly a sight. Dorian had considered something as dramatic as a leash but then realized that having an unleashed Qunari still obeying his orders would actually be more intimidating. Which was a necessary show of confidence in this particular situation.

“Dorian!”

Dorian spun around and pulled a smile onto his lips. “Aurelian Titus,” He returned, holding his hand out for the older, portly senator who had most likely found his seat at the Senate through bribery alone. Still, connections were connections. “So nice to see you here.”

“I feel the same! I wasn’t aware that you were close acquaintances with Gereon.”

“Dorian and I go back many years.”

Dorian stiffened then turned to see Gereon striding toward them, a wine cup already in hand. He was smiling but the expression was cold and calculating and Dorian lifted his chin, meeting the challenge head on. “We do, indeed.” He said, bowing his head slightly in recognition of the man’s entrance. “Gereon taught me much about the Senate and all of its intricacies when I first took my father’s mantle.”

“And before then you were my eager student. Children do grow up so fast.”

A child. Considered only naïve and petulant rather than a threat. Dorian smothered a flinch, covering it instead with a grin. “But rarely do children grow into such dashing examples of manhood. A good portion of that is due to your invaluable teachings, the other portion to good breeding. I’m sure you’ve heard the Pavus lineage can be traced back to Aeneas and therefore Aphrodite herself? I’ve been told that’s where our beauty comes from.”

Gereon huffed out a noise that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t been so dismissive. Dorian did hear a soft sound from behind him though and realized that was Bull attempting to smother his own laugh as Gereon continued. “You never change, Dorian. Though apparently you have felt the need to bring a beast into by home?” Gereon raised a brow. “Does your pretty face need such protection? I hadn’t realized you were so frightened for your life to needlessly spend that kind of coin while of sound health and relatively low position at the Senate.”

Ah, he should have known that would come back to haunt him. Dorian felt that he was just about done with this particular conversation. “The Iron Bull has actually proven to be very useful in a variety of ways—reaching across great distances to fetch me a cup of wine and chopping off assassins’ heads to name only a few. If nothing else, a Qunari has proven to be a fine conversation starter. At the moment, however, I do believe I need to greet Felix, it has been far too long since I have last seen him. Will he be in his room?”

If here was one thing that could soften Gereon it was his son and it was enough now for the man to hold back whatever acerbic comment that he had waiting. “He is.”

“Very good. Bull, go to the dining room. Try not to kill anyone while I’m away. I will return to the party soon. Gentlemen, until then,” Dorian gave a sweeping bow then brushed past Gereon, not looking back once for fear it would be deemed as an unforgivable weakness. He still remembered the way into the smaller, more intimate atrium which was connected to the family’s private rooms and he sighed happily. A moment of respite with Felix was exactly what he needed right now.

When he reached the other’s bedroom, Felix was lying in his bed with two thick wool blankets bundled around him and propped up against a half dozen cushions. A small table had been placed by his bedside and it had a cup of wine and small plate of food sitting on it—a small sampling of the party outside.

Felix was pale and nearing gaunt, with deep shadows under his eyes, but when he woke as Dorian entered still managed to smile. “Dorian…! I’d asked my father if he might invite you. I was not sure he would.”

Dorian made himself smile and sat down in the chair that had been set by the man’s bedside. “I wouldn’t have missed a chance to visit you for anything,” he assured. Felix’s health had declined since he had last seen him and Dorian reached out to cover the other’s hand with his. “How have you been? Have the doctors come up with a prognosis yet?”

Felix huffed out a laugh, the sound turning to a cough halfway through. When he got his breath back a moment later, he pushed himself further upright. “I have been nearly exactly as you see me now. As for the doctors, I’m fairly sure Father has brought in every single doctor in Rome but they are all baffled. Some say it could be the plague but I’ve been living far too long for that to be true. Some say poison but that’s just as impossible after so long as well.”

“It may very well be that your body simply wilts when it is never in my presence, Felix.” Dorian teased, spirit lightening when Felix grinned. “Such a terrible curse to be away from such dashing good looks! Such wit and intelligence!”

This time Felix was able to laugh without interruption. “A terrible curse, indeed! If that were the case, you would be the only culprit! Binding someone to you forever as an audience.”

Dorian chuckled, though his smile faded a bit and he clasped Felix’s hand in his own. “In all seriousness, I should come visit you more. I apologize for that.”

Felix shook his head and he turned his hand over to lace their fingers together. “Dorian, I know you and Father have had your…differences. I couldn’t ask you to visit too often—the arguments alone would be too much of a headache.”

“Still…” Dorian paused then brightened. “Well, I will have to just kidnap you to my villa. Some country air and sun would do you a world of good. Not to mention some good food and company. We can read poetry and history together. It will be a lovely escape.”

“It sounds wonderful, but I don’t think that I will be going anywhere for a while.” Felix gestured down to his body. “I’ve been bed-ridden for the past few weeks and though I would like to say that I’m slowly recovering, I can’t promise I will be able to make it to a carriage much less the back of a horse.”  
Dorian waved he concern away. “Nonsense, that won’t be a problem. My new Qunari can pick you up and carry you out without effort.” At the other’s expression, Dorian grinned. “Didn’t you hear? I bought a Qunari. The Iron Bull. I should introduce you—he’s built like some brutish Hercules and these horns that are easily as wide as my shoulders.”

“Dorian…”

Felix’s concerned tone made Dorian pause then frown. “Now, Felix, it’s not like that.”

“I think I know your type, Dorian.”

Dorian clicked his tongue even as a blush stained his cheeks. Felix did know his type. They had known each other long enough. When Felix was healthy the two of them had gone to enough bath houses that his friend had more than once seen him slip away with a well-muscled man. “I haven’t had sex with him. I may…enjoy the view but I have no plans on joining the pigs who keep body slaves. I would find no satisfaction in sex taken by force.”

This time it was Felix who shifted uncomfortably and he squeezed Dorian’s hand in apology. “I know you wouldn’t, it’s one of the many reasons that we’re friends. I would very much like to meet your Qunari someday and might even concede to being kidnapped. Now, I’m sure you are being missed at the party.”

“I would much rather stay here—out there they are twice as old and half as articulate. It’s horrendous.”

“Be nice. Or get drunk. Either way, go do your duty as a proper senator. Write to me tomorrow and you and I will begin to make plans.”

“That had best be a promise.” Dorian paused then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Felix’s sheared head before he pulled away and stood. “I’ll write to you and I will expect a swift response or else I’ll come over here and throw a tantrum and neither of us want to experience that.”

Felix smiled even as he looked pale and thin again, as Dorian stood and looked upon him in his nest of blankets and pillows. “No, I expect not. Until then, Dorian.”

Dorian tilted his head in acknowledgement then left the room. The air outside was fresh in comparison to the stifled sick of Felix’s room and he was half tempted to just call Bull over and drag Felix out of his room, out of this house, but the rational part of him knew that would not solve anything. Felix was receiving ample care at home and if he were to go with Dorian to his villa, it would be best if it were a planned excursion rather than something which would lead Gereon to summoning a legion of soldiers after him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who reviewed! :D

Dorian returned to the dining room to find most of the party guests already in the room. Couches lined tables piled with exotic foods, everything from oranges and grapes and small eggs to what looked like an entire roast pig surrounded by ducks and chicken and whole loaves of bread. The scent of expensive cinnamon, pepper, and nutmeg instantly hit his nose and he barely had entered the room before one of Alexius’s slaves had pressed a cup of wine into his hand and led him over to one of the empty couches. Happily, it was on the other side of the room from where Alexius was sitting, which meant that there would hopefully be no arguments between them.

Such luxury was expected for a senator’s dinner and if he had not attended dozens of them in the last year alone it would be the type of thing that could almost be overwhelming.  As it was, it could be considered a little austere with the lack of dancing slave girls or anyone offering sexual favors—but Alexius was easily a man known for his austerity so the style of party was fitting. Really, the thing that instantly struck Dorian as amiss was the lack of his usual, very large shadow. Setting his cup down at his place setting, Dorian brushed aside Alexius’s slave who was fluttering about asking what he needed. Surely the Iron Bull had to be somewhere close by so he walked to the door that led out into the courtyard to which the kitchen was adjacent.

He didn’t have to go far. The Iron Bull was leaning against one of the many columns lining the courtyard, head back and laughing. And surrounded by a small crowd of fawning slaves seemingly enraptured as he told what sounded like a rather over-dramatized version of how he had lost his eye to slavers.

A feeling Dorian had no intention in identifying swallowed up his senses and nearly made his ears ring. It was one thing to have heard of Bull’s flirting and sexual exploits, but seeing it person was entirely different and he did not like it at all.

“ _Bull!_ ” That had come out rather louder and sharper than he had intended. The slaves surrounding the Iron Bull scattered, which made the Qunari frown and quirk his brow.

“I was just getting to the good part. You need something? Ah, shit, you’re angry.”

“Very astute.” Dorian snapped, trying to stamp down the angry flush he knew was touching his cheeks. He shouldn’t allow himself to be this irritated. There was nothing between them other than Dorian’s own fantasy which was safely still just in his head.

Taking a deep breath Dorian pulled himself together, shook out his shoulders, then adjusted his toga back over his arm before he spoke again, thankfully more calmly this time. He would have time to be embarrassed later. If any of the other party guests caught wind of this little exchange there would be talk he didn’t need. Though _he_ usually was able to find Bull’s indifference toward authority charming, his reputation would be ruined if anyone saw him even having this sort of conversation—Bull shouldn’t even be allowed to have any type of conversation with him. It would present as weakness on his part and weak was the one thing a “good Roman” could never be, at least not one from a noble family line such as his.

The embarrassment was easier to stamp down than the damned jealousy, which kept his tone clipped. “Stop flirting and come back inside. This nonsense is _not_ why I brought you.”

“Boss--”

Dorian raised his hand to cut the other off then turned back into the dining room, relieved when Bull actually followed a command and found his place against the wall behind him. Of course, as he settled onto his couch, he couldn’t help but notice that several of the senators’ eyes went often to Bull. Their gazes ranged from disgusted to, yes, intrigued, most likely sexually, and Dorian huffed and drank his first cup of wine faster than he should have. Painting Bull up had been a terrible idea.

The party continued as Dorian had initially expected. As the wine continued to flow, the conversation slowly turned from current events and politics to philosophy and then devolved into bawdy stories of sexual conquests.

Dorian had eaten his fill and was well past drunk but still wrinkled his nose as Aurelian, who was reclining across from him, dragged one of his slaves—a delicate elf girl who reminded Dorian too much of Attia—onto his lap. The elf giggled but it was obvious she was trying to get away as she pushed against his body. Two couches down, another man was doing the same but this one was in his line of sight and Dorian set his wine cup down a little too firmly. “Aurelian, please contain yourself.” He was happy that his words were only slightly slurred. Drinking at home had clearly improved his tolerance. “This is not some low-class symposium and we have just eaten.”

Aurelian rolled his eyes, drunk as well as he answered loudly. “Fuck off, Pavus. Or better yet, find someone to fuck!”

Beside him, Senator Calanthus snorted then broke out in a laugh before he waved at Dorian. “He is right. For someone with that appearance, you are too uptight! I first mistook you as the entertainment rather than a guest!”

Dorian frowned and pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Calanthus, if you have something to say, by all means, let’s hear it plainly. That is, if you are capable of plain and articulate words. I’m not quite certain you are judging by the speeches you stumble through in the Senate.”

It was almost a thrill to see Calanthus rise to his feet. Dorian had been feeling edgy since he had set foot in this house, to be honest, and if he would get an excuse to hit a paunchy old man in the face, all the better—

He blinked as his vision was suddenly filled with grey and red stripes and, oh, Bull was in front of him. He huffed in annoyance as Alexius simultaneously sat up and asked imperiously. “Is there a problem, gentlemen?”

The other men in the room had gone quiet and the slaves looked frightened and, deciding the mood had been sufficiently ruined, Dorian rolled his eyes then swatted Bull’s spine, getting him to move enough for Dorian to stand. He wobbled on his feet his first few steps but found his pace even as his vision swam a bit and walked over to their host. “No problem, Alexius. I simply realized that I need to leave before it gets too late…Letters to write, a _salutatio_ to host early in the morning. Terribly busy. If you’ll excuse me.”

 Alexius was looking at him suspiciously—as if he’d instigated the fight!—but nodded all the same and Dorian took that as an appropriate cue to leave. He’d half a thought to go say his goodbyes to Felix but he didn’t want to disturb his friend and he _was_ rather drunk so he just took it upon himself to get out of the house as quickly as he could.

As soon as they were on the street, Dorian let out a breath as he stumbled again then huffed when Bull wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’m more than capable of walking.”

“Sure you are, boss,” Bull said. Dorian noticed he didn’t let go of him but decided not to mention it.

There was a moment of quiet when Dorian focused on putting one step in front of the other and trying not to stumble on a rogue cobblestone. It was a good deal easier with Bull supporting him but there was no way that he was going to admit that. Instead what came from his lips was a somewhat petulant, “Calanthus said I looked like a whore. The nerve.”

Bull made a noise of agreement and Dorian took his eyes off the road to look up at him, a risky move considering how drunk he was.

“I don’t look like a whore, do I?”

Bull looked down at him then shook his head, usual smirk on his lips. “Nah. And if you did it would be one of those really classy whores. Like the emperor’s concubine, or something.”

“Right. Well, good, then.” Dorian paused then asked. “If I _were_ a whore, would you have sex with me?”

Dorian had not expected Bull to stop in his tracks and would have fallen on his face if his bodyguard hadn’t grabbed his arm at the last minute to steady him. An angry sputter died on Dorian’s lips when he turned to find Bull staring at him. “What?”

“You’re…” Bull paused then shook his head and wrapped his arm back around Dorian. “You’re a good guy, you know that?”

Dorian wasn’t sure how they came to this change of topic but he didn’t let it bother him. Instead, he settled against Bull’s side, grateful for its warmth in the cool evening air. “Much to the discredit of the entire Senate. Do keep that to yourself—it would be the downfall of my political career.”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut. And for the record I would be interested in fucking you if you were a fancy whore. Or even if you just looked like one.”

It was the response Dorian wanted to hear and he nodded fuzzily to himself and let the matter drop to focus back on his walking. Bull managed to get Dorian back to his mansion and to his bedroom where Dorian collapsed onto his blankets and furs and instantly fell asleep.

He woke to a pounding headache, rolling stomach, and smudged makeup sticking his face to his blanket. Groaning, he rolled onto his side then stumbled out of the room. He made it to the toilet just in time to throw up and another groan escaped him when he realized he was still in his toga which was now sufficiently wrinkled.

Hearing light footfalls outside the door, he lifted his head from the toilet and rasped out, “Attia!”

“She’s in the atrium offering breakfast to your clients.”

The Iron Bull. “Damn,” Dorian dropped his forehead against the lip of the toilet then heaved a sigh. He could unfortunately remember most of last night but Bull wasn’t looking at him with anything other than amused sympathy so he took a breath. “How many of them are there?” he croaked.

“Just five last time I looked.”

“Still five too many for my taste at the moment…” A bath had sounded lovely but there was no time. He hadn’t been lying to Alexius when he’d said that he had morning _salutatio_. Of course, as patricians, everyone at that party would be seeing their family’s clients right now, doing their civic duty to provide favors and solutions to those of lower rank who had pledged themselves to their respective families. Dorian just wished he had been able to wake up about an hour earlier for it. “Bring me a clean tunic, some hot water, and something for this damned hangover.”

“No problem. You’ll be here?”

“I have no plans on moving anytime soon.”

Not more than ten minutes later, Bull returned with a clean tunic, a bowl of steaming water with a washcloth, and a cup of tea. Dorian recognized the scent of ginger but there was something else there that was unfamiliar. “What am I drinking?” he rasped. “I would almost welcome poison at this point.”

The responding chuckle sent a warm wave through Dorian despite the headache and nausea. “Sorry to disappoint, but you’re going to live through this small a dosage. It’s a plant from Par Vollen. I stocked up on some things since I know shit about what your Roman weeds do. It’ll help with the headache. Drink up and get dressed.”

Dorian did as he was told. The tea did help, surprisingly quickly. By the time he had scrubbed his face and had redressed, he felt much more like himself. Enough to stand up and leave the bathroom. By the time he reached the atrium he had managed to place a neutral expression on his face that was expected of the patrician class.  As he sat down, Bull took an imposing stance behind him as he always did, not at all looking like he had just scraped his master off of the floor.

Luckily, all of the Pavus clients had patiently waited for him and had fairly simple reasons for being there. Mareno was first and talked about his latest research. Pavus money was paying for his education at one of the temples—while not was not a particularly religious man, Dorian had always found the history of religion fascinating and Mareno had all but come begging for the funding.

Next was Tarsian and his teenage son. Tarsian was a good man—a rare trait for an accountant in the courthouse. Today he was just coming to pay his respects to his patron and gave Dorian a jug of wine which Dorian gracefully accepted even if it was below the quality he usually bought. Attia could always cook with it, after all. He had the same pleasantries with another of his clients, Cassius, as well as Marcus Aclassi, an older freedman and Dorian’s tailor upon whom Dorian relied to make the bulk of his clothing. Apparently, Marcus was working on tracking down some high quality silk which he was excited to have Dorian inspect. Dorian assured him he was happy to do. A new bit of silk to his collection would make him the talk of the upper-class in a way he very much encouraged.

Still, after they had all left, Dorian slumped back into his chair with a deep sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Feeling alright there, boss?”

Dorian blinked open an eye. The Iron Bull was looking down at him as Attia swept a few feet away, cleaning out dirt the visitors had brought in. His gaze found Bull’s again and he sighed. “I’m alright. Your drink seemed to do the trick for the most part…” He paused then bit his lip. Best just to get this over with. “About last night…I must apologize. I put you in an uncomfortable situation.”

“You were drunk and it wasn’t so bad,” Bull put his hands on his hips and grinned. “You may not have noticed, but I could have handled the situation if it had gotten out of hand.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” Dorian’s mouth snapped shut and Bull raised an amused eyebrow. “Don’t,” Dorian warned, flushing in slight embarrassed irritation. “The point I am trying to make is that I will not abuse my power and I want you to know that.”

Bull’s body language softened some and he reached over to set his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. It was large and warm enough to feel like it nearly burned through Dorian’s skin. “I get it. Don’t worry about it. I can’t even really blame you—who wouldn’t go for the chance to ride the Bull?”

Dorian groaned at the pun and buried his face in his hand, half because the joke was terrible and half to hide the way that his blush had undoubtedly deepened. He was starting to fall into this silly infatuation hard and Bull’s nonchalance about the whole thing was not going to help at all. He especially didn’t need someone who would tempt out his more perverse preferences of being submissive. But, perhaps worse yet, now he had to rid his head of the mental image of him gripping Bull’s horns as the other ravished him as well as the accompanying erection before he set off for another grueling day at the Senate.


	4. Chapter 4

A few weeks later and Dorian’s infatuation had grown only stronger, if such a thing was possible, to the point of near constant distraction. His eyes always seemed to follow his bodyguard’s movements to where he felt that the only time he ever really got anything done was when the Iron Bull was behind him or otherwise out of his sight.

At the moment, however, his mind was seething with irritation and he shoved his way past the Qunari as he stormed out of the _Curia Julia_ where the Senate gathered twice a month. Far too often, in his opinion, with the headaches he had to suffer through.

“Those men are no better than common street thugs!” He exclaimed, voice touching shrill as he threw up his hands. “I have never seen such a group of bloated, spoiled, out-of-touch idiots in my life!”

“Might want to keep your voice down. The others aren’t far behind us,” Bull advised.

“I will not be quiet!” Dorian huffed. “I would say it to their faces if they attempt to talk to me right now! Can you believe what they are trying to—there is no possible way Emperor Valerius would accept the proposal!”

“You’ll have to catch me up. I was waiting outside with the rest of the help.”

“That’s just it!” Dorian said, hands animated once again. “That’s exactly it.  Of sorts, at least, in a sense.” He took a deep breath and surreptitiously smoothed out his mustache as he forced calm upon himself. “Alexius, in his infinite wisdom, has decided to back a proposal submitted by Senator Danarius that would retract Roman citizenship to those children born to freed slaves. Some nonsense about maintaining the purity and sensibility of the voting public. Alexius was one of several to agree to the concept but both he and Danarius are _praetors_ and their status among the Senate will give the proposal weight. But what they don’t seem to realize is that if we upset that level of society, there is bound to be trouble. Gods, if the plebs even _hear_ of the proposal there will be trouble, which they will once the proceedings are published. In short, it’s a complete mess, and I intend to have a strong argument when the Senate reconvenes in two weeks. I said as much to them during the meeting before the emperor released us back into the wild—what is it?”

Dorian paused mid-tirade when he noticed that Bull had a strange expression on his face but the other man shrugged off his question with one broad shoulder. “It’s nothing. Just like hearing you when you’re being passionate.”

The accompanying eyebrow wiggle did nothing but force a high, offended noise from Dorian’s throat. Smacking the other on the arm, Dorian hissed, “control yourself in public!” Not that anyone was paying them much attention in the Forum, crowded and noisy as it was but one could never be too careful.  Not that there was anything to be careful about… “Make yourself useful and get in front to clear a path. I want to get back home to see if Felix wrote to me today.” 

“You could just admit you want to admire my _ass_ ets.”

“Your puns are abysmal and make me want to drink.” And thank goodness the Iron Bull was now in front of him because he could pretend he wasn’t blushing. But really, this whole thing was beginning to get out of hand. Though it really was entirely his own fault. As the master of the household, he should be the one with the firm hand. The one to tell Bull outright that such comments were inappropriate. And yet…he liked them too much for them to stop. The unfortunate thing was Bull seemed to know that as well.

They returned to the Pavus mansion to the sweet smell of something being cooked in the ovens. As Bull went to investigate, Dorian sat down at his desk and the stack of letters awaiting him. Attia, bless her heart, had sorted them with a note from Felix at the top and Dorian opened it immediately.

 

_My friend,_

_I have managed to cajole one of the family slaves into helping me pack some clothing and other necessities for a potential visit to your villa without telling Father. Bribery may have been involved. I have been trying to get upright and out of bed each day to train for the stamina for the “escape” and travel. The doctors are thrilled. Father is suspicious, as you might expect, but also happy in his own way._

_I would say that I cannot believe you managed to convince me of this, but I was not that hard to convince, was I? In truth, I am very much looking forward to the trip. The fresh air, the sun, the books, your company. And, of course, the chance to finally meet your Iron Bull. My goal is that our first encounter will not be me slung over his shoulder as he carries me from my house._

_There’s two more days until market day and I’m confident that I will be ready to leave then. If you come pick me up at dawn, we will be at the villa by sunset the next day! More than enough time for us to spend a week and a half there and get you back in time for the next Senate meeting._

_Until then, yours truly,_

_Felix Alexius_

 

Dorian found himself smiling as he finished reading the letter. Two days. Not too long. Just in time, really, a trip was just what he needed after that dreadful Senate hearing. Feeling a bit more settled now, Dorian collected his remaining letters then left his room for the fresh air of the peristyle where he knew Bull would be. Attia as well if she was working on preparing dinner.

The mosaic floor was a little too cool under his bare feet and he sighed happily when he finally reached sun-warmed grass. Bull indeed was already swinging his great axe around like some sort of barbarian from an old epic tale even if in this case the only thing he was menacing was a small collection of straw dummies. Still, it was impressive when he neatly lobbed off one of the thing’s heads then swung the axe onto his bare shoulder. He turned to face him as Dorian sat on one of the benches tucked along the columns bordering the grass expanse. 

When he saw that he had taken his bodyguard’s attention, Dorian waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t mind me. You can go back to defending the _domus_ against the enemy hoard. I just came out while natural light was available to read by.”

“You should come out more often, it’ll do you some good. You ever consider picking up a physical hobby? Running, weight lifting, knife fighting? Could help get some of that stress from the politics out. You can use it to learn how to defend yourself too in case something goes bad. And, of course, I’d be willing to help with any of that, by the way. I got one special knife you can practice with,” he added with a wink.

Dorian snorted in an ungentlemanly manner and tucked up his toga high enough to swing his legs up onto the bench and stretch out, back braced against the column. He set the letters on his chest and picked up the first. “I walk halfway across Rome and back nearly every day and do my stretches often enough at the baths. I think that is enough physical activity for a man who is wealthy enough to actually hire a bodyguard rather than having to learn something as plebian as how to fight.” He kept his gaze purposefully neutral as he inspected the letter at the top of the pile—a note from Marcus saying that he would visit tomorrow with the silk. “I’ll admit I do enjoy some other physical activities which is why I always keep up with my stretching.” 

There was a moment of silence from Bull and Dorian’s lip quirked up despite his attempt to keep a cool expression. It was the first time he could remember actually flirting back and he couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the other’s expression. Bull was staring at him but when their eyes met, the Qunari huffed out a noise then shook his head with a rueful smile. “Still manage to surprise me, boss. Well enjoy the show while you’re here—it can be a fun little reminder of how we met.”

Dorian managed a smile when Bull turned away to return to hacking away at the dummies even as something inside him chilled at the other’s words. _Boss_ , he had said. It’s what Bull always called him and yet…he mustn’t forget that he was, above all else, Bull’s master. Bull flirted with him because he was naturally flirtatious and charming and Dorian was consistently the nearest warm body. The Iron Bull was also perceptive, maybe he had only started actively flirting after he had determined that Dorian had a preference for men? Though how could he have known? Dorian hadn’t had a sexual encounter for months, certainly never while the Qunari had been part of his household. Perhaps Dorian just looked the part to a careful observer?

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Dorian went back to sorting his mail.

Despite everything, he still found himself looking up more than he should to watch Bull’s performance. And it was a performance. Bull’s swings were wide and dramatic and he was grunting and being noisier than Dorian thought he usually was. Though he wasn’t usually so close to hear it. But when Bull actually paused he _did_ roll his shoulders and—gods preserve him— _flex_ and Dorian felt his stomach clench with want.

It was both a relief and a tragedy when Attia popped her head out from the kitchen and announced that dinner was ready to be served. With a growl Dorian could hear from his bench, Bull swung his axe one last time, the arc of his swing low enough to embed the weapon in the post that served as the straw dummy’s base. He left it there with a satisfied grin then walked past Dorian, passing him with a wink before he slipped into the kitchen to help Attia carry the food to the table.

They ate at the small table inside the kitchen as per tradition. It was more intimate than the _tricilium_ with its reclining couches, and this was far from a formal dinner party. Dorian didn’t always join them, would occasionally take his meal in his room if he had work to finish, but today he did and enjoyed the comradery of Attia’s chatter about her trip to the market and Bull recounting a wild story from Par Vollen.

It was pleasant.

It was…not proper.

It never was.

Their dinner conversation was lively enough that the meal lasted a few hours as all good dinner parties did. Dorian ignored the rock that had seemed to settle in his gut but did have the wherewithal to remove himself back to his room as soon as Attia had stood to begin cleaning up from the meal.

He found that the idea of going to sleep was undesirable so he lit the oil lamp at his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment and charcoal pencil and began to map out an argument he could use against Alexius and Danarius. He would have to make it a good one for while there was rumor that he might be soon made _praetor_ as Alexius and Danarius were, he currently was of lower rank than them in the Senate and his argument would have to be airtight if he was going to get anyone to pay attention.

The other Senators had to understand what it would mean if they restructured the rights of freedmen, if they kept the children of freedmen from becoming Roman citizens. Dorian could only think of people like Marcus Aclassi, a man who worked so hard for his children who had been born after he had been freed and were therefore citizens with all of the benefits that came with that title. The man was working so hard to give them a better life than the one he was guaranteed.

Perhaps Dorian was a bleeding heart. Perhaps he spent too much time with his slaves. But at the same time, it had given him the very unique perspective of seeing them as people. And he also knew that despite his small household that there were quite a lot of freedmen in the Empire. If the Senate made such a mistake as to upset the livelihoods and rights of such a large portion of the population, there would be severe consequences.

The trick was to make it seem as if it were somehow beneficial to the other Senators personally to refuse to sign the law into existence.

Starting to think about this now was good. He could research past laws when they reached the villa—the Pavus family had been keeping record of Senate legislature for generations. Something in those codexes had to be of value.

This was good to think about. Not to mention an appropriate way to spend his time.

It seemed like he had just closed his eyes a moment to think when Dorian woke the next morning with his face smashed against his desk. On parchment, to be precise. With a low groan, he lifted his head, the parchment falling away from his cheek as he rose. The last few lines of his writing had been smeared away beyond legibility but there were many inches of good thoughts outlined above that which he would be able to work with.

Dorian scrubbed at his face and had just needed to step out of his room before Attia spotted him and he asked her to draw him a bath. He was lucky that he had woken early enough for the luxury but it still was not as long as he would have preferred. He had to get out of the water before it had even gone cold and dress in time for the morning’s _salutatio_.

There was a decent crowd this time waiting for him in the atrium, the line of people to greet him trailing out the door and most likely to the end of the block. The sun was shining through the opening in the ceiling, the small _impluvium_ pool below it clear and reflecting the early morning sky.

Dorian was relieved that he had been able to bathe and relax because this morning would undoubtedly be a long one of pomp and circumstance. Though at least he would have company, he thought dryly as he felt Bull take his place behind him, a comforting weight against the masses.

It was, however, pleasant enough in its individual parts as large as the group was, as these mornings tended to be. Two hours in and Dorian had a small collection of gifts and had given a good share of his own away. The line had condensed enough so that all who remained were collecting into the atrium. It was a bit crowded but better than having them out on the street.

Dorian had just accepted a cup of honeyed wine from Attia as she fluttered around serving breakfast and brightened when he saw Marcus enter the atrium with one of his grown children behind him—a young man by the looks of it—balancing a large bolt of what Dorian could see from his seat was a shimmering, deep indigo silk. His fingers twitched to touch it but he held back and dealt with his current client, Quintus, who was seeking advice over a small legal dispute with his neighbor.

He should have, perhaps, given in to his desire to touch the silk.

As Quintus left with a grateful dip of his head a small commotion broke out among those still waiting. Thinking it an argument, Dorian’s brows furrowed and he rose to see what the growing churning was about when two people broke from the crowd and rushed toward him.

Dorian opened his mouth to ask who they were as he did not recognize them but then he saw a glint of metal and Dorian only realized it was a knife when Bull surged up behind him and rammed him aside with all the force of his animal namesake.

Dorian tumbled to the ground and scrambled onto his side to see Bull stop the knife with his arm and then tackle the first man to the ground with a roar, big hand around his throat as they went down. The would-be assassin was immediately knocked unconscious if not killed by the force of it.

The second man had twisted out of the way and, when he saw his compatriot had so easily brought down, made for the door only to be tackled by Marcus Aclassi’s son. The youth took an elbow to the face and a cut to his side for his efforts but tenaciously kept his grip long enough for others to rush to his aid.

Barely able to comprehend what had just happened, Dorian turned with wide eyes to Bull when the Qunari rolled onto his feet and bellowed through the confusion, “ _Dorian, move!”_

Dorian tracked Bull’s wild gaze upward and he looked up to see an archer perched on the opening in the ceiling. His body suddenly felt as if it were made of lead weights and he forced himself to get up and move but he just managed to get to his feet when he was thrown back down again.

For a brief, wild second he thought that Bull had rammed into his shoulder again until the hit of the force turned sharp and agonizing and he came back to his senses enough to note that he had been shot, the bolt of the arrow jutting from his shoulder, blood quickly staining his toga around the wound.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Roman Fact of the Day: For those concerned, the Classical World (Greece, Rome, and Egypt) had fairly advanced medical practices. They could perform C-sections (called "cesarean-sections" for Caesar after all!) and eye surgeries! The Roman Empire also had such "modern" luxuries as crosswalks, fast food, vending machines, public toilets, indoor plumbing and running water, and even concrete that hardened underwater!

_…him on the_ _table, there…_

_“…old him down.”_

The last thing Dorian remembered was lying on the floor of his atrium before horns had invaded his vision followed by a face—Bull—but then…nothing. It felt as if he had fallen into a river. Perhaps someone had tossed his body into the Tiber thinking him dead? Water was certainly washing around him, warm as it was, noisy in his ears. His shoulder was bumped—maybe he hit the bank and was now in some strange part of Rome? What if it wasn’t Rome? The water wasn’t right. For all he knew it could be the Styx, the river of the dead.

Maybe this was what it was like to be dead.

His thoughts were interrupted by blazing fire shooting through his body and Dorian’s eyes snapped open as he was thrown back into the world of the living with a scream that burned his throat.

“Drink!” A glass bottle was pressed to his lips and Dorian had no choice but to swallow as liquid poured down his throat. It was either that and choke. Choking might have been preferable, though, because nearly as soon as the liquid hit his stomach, he could feel it coming up again and he barely managed to roll over before he was throwing up into a conveniently-placed bowl.

“I’ve got you, Dorian.”

The world came a little more into focus and Dorian could discern a form above him as he was moved back onto his back.

 _Bull_.

Dorian opened his mouth to speak but words were too difficult—he couldn’t even form a proper sentence in his head. But he was safe. Thank the gods, he was safe.

Above him, Bull was wearing an expression Dorian had never seen. The Qunari looked…worried. More than worried, angry as well. A large warm hand pressed against his forehead and Dorian closed his eyes against his bodyguard’s touch.

“Hey, keep your eyes open, we need you awake. You need to stay awake.”

Dorian forced his eyes open with great effort though he found some relief when he found the Iron Bull’s gaze again. “Was…was I shot?” He croaked. Because he was fairly sure he had been shot, but moments ago he had also been sure that he had been floating in the Tiber.

“You were shot,” Bull growled in confirmation. “Antivan Crows. The arrow was poisoned. Thought we’d lost you for a few minutes there.”

“He’s not out of danger yet.” Dorian had just enough energy to roll his head to the side and his brows furrowed when he saw a dark-skinned man he didn’t recognize rush past, a tray holding bloody shards of an arrow in his hands. The man noted the attention and his lips quirked up in a small smile. “He may be a Senator, but poison’s not so easily drained from a body, even with a good bleeding and emptying of the stomach.”

Dorian stared at the man for a moment before he looked back over to Bull. “…Where are we, exactly?” His sense of touch was beginning to come back to him which was unfortunate as he realized he was laying on what felt like a small layer of fabric stretched over a slab of wood.

“A healer a few blocks into the tenements by the Aclassi apartment. We needed somewhere close that wasn’t connected to anyone with money. Stitches, you going to stop the bleeding or is this part of the process?”

Dorian frowned, mind trying to work as the healer—Stitches, apparently, how quaint—crouched down beside him again and clicked his tongue. “We need to get as much poison out as we can. If we were able to drain most of the tainted blood before it got any further into his body, he’ll probably be alright with a long recovery period.” As he spoke, he brought a bandage up to Dorian’s shoulder which was still sluggishly bleeding and started to wrap it up, which…

“Am I naked?” Dorian interrupted Stitches and the other man paused, hesitating until Bull answered.

“I got you out of the toga. It’s got blood all over it and it was a shit ton of unnecessary fabric.”

“Oh, very well, then…” A wave of exhaustion washed over Dorian and he closed his eyes and murmured low. “I think I need to sleep again.”

“He should be alright. Sleeping shouldn’t hurt, at least.”

“You can sleep again, Dorian. But only for a light nap.”

Dorian nodded sluggishly, too relieved at the prospect of more rest to fight back about being ordered around by his slave.

The next time he woke it was to the sensation of his head and shoulder throbbing in pain but his mind was clearer and he didn’t feel quite so weak. Opening his eyes, he also found himself more aware of his surroundings, actually able to look and understand it which was…almost a shame. He had clearly been brought to some low-class clinic. He remembered Bull saying that it was near to where the Aclassi’s lived and it looked the part. It was small and cramped with its cracking plaster walls and mismatched collection of bottles and baskets and jars holding various herbs and poultices, a threadbare curtain separating his space from another room.

Gods, did his shoulder hurt. It was no longer a stinging pain but a deep, solid ache that thrummed with each beat of his heart. He must have made a noise as he shifted because there was movement on the other side of the curtain followed by Bull pushing his way in. He’d had to duck to get through the door but as he straightened up his horns just barely kept from scratching the ceiling and Dorian couldn’t help but huff out a laugh by the way that the Qunari filled the room.

“You’re awake.”

“So it seems. You couldn’t have found a clinic that fits you?”

“I needed one that was safe for you first,” Bull rumbled. He was smiling as he crouched down beside Dorian’s cot and rested a large hand on his good shoulder. “How do you feel?”

“Terrible.” No need to be anything but honest when Bull would undoubtedly see through any of his lies. As he shifted again, Dorian felt his joints creak and winced. His skin felt dry and as if it were pulled too tight on him. “How long have I been sleeping? Is it evening yet—it feels like it’s been hours.”

“It has been hours and it is the evening but you’ve been fighting a fever for the past day and a half.”

Dorian’s eyes widened, “ _A day and a half?!_ Bull, I’ve missed my appointment to pick Felix up from the villa! What must he be thinking?”

“If he knew what was happening then I’m sure he’d be fine with waiting a few more days in exchange for your life. Besides, we don’t know who put out the hit on you and until we figure that out, you aren’t going near anyone with any connections to Senators.”

A sickening chill filled Dorian’s stomach as the reality of his situation hit him. Someone had just sent assassins after him. “Do I remember you saying Antivan Crows?” When Bull nodded Dorian closed his eyes with a groan. Antivan Crows were expensive which meant a Senator had to be behind the hit. “It has to be Danarius.”

“They want to get you out of the picture before the next Senate hearing. You were the most vocal opponent to their proposal.” It was a statement, not a question. Dorian wondered how long it had taken Bull to work that out on his own. Perhaps as soon as he had seen the assassins? “What about Alexius?”

That had been a question and Dorian frowned, thinking it over for a long moment before he shook his head. “No, I think not. Well, he might have been aware of it but, while our interactions have been contentious in the past, sending assassins speaks to a level of zeal I don’t think he quite has for Danarius’s plan. Still, all the more reason for us to take a quick vacation for a while, and I’ll not be leaving without Felix. If we fetch him from the Alexius mansion before dawn tomorrow, we will only be a day off schedule.”

The Iron Bull looked down at him for a long moment, expression almost carefully neutral. “You know that you almost died yesterday. And today.”

Dorian opened his mouth to shoot back that he was fine but then really thought about what Bull had said and it hit him. He had nearly died. He could be dead right now. He sucked in a shaking breath then let it out slowly. “I…I suppose I did. I almost died…!”

He looked up at Bull and whatever his expression, it caused Bull to curse low in his chest and lean down and then they were kissing. It was a quick press of lips to lips but at the same time it was everything and Dorian chased it with another peck as Bull pulled back. For his part, the Qunari appeared almost…irritated. Exasperated. “You were never going to actually say anything.”

“I’ve been told I’m rather stubborn,” Dorian rasped, a smile curving the corners of his lips and threatening to burst out. “I also have made it a rule not to have sex with my slaves.”

“Is that one of the of those hard and fast rules?” Dorian was rolling his eyes and Bull was grinning before he even finished, “Because I think we could have great hard and fast sex once you’re feeling better.”

“You are absolutely horrible and if I had any strength in my limbs I would be asking you to make good on that right this moment.” Dorian closed his eyes for a long moment and just breathed. This was going to happen, he was sure of it. Even if it terrified him as much as it excited him. “You should know that my preferences tend toward the submissive role during sex.”

“I know. I tend to draw two types of people.” Dorian opened his eyes at this and Bull smirked. “There’s the people that either want to be conquered by the big ox-man or there are the people who want to try and ‘tame the beast.’ Seeing as how you haven’t put me in shackles yet, I was pretty sure the second wasn’t really your thing.”

Dorian sputtered, the sound cutting off with a wince as he pulled his shoulder a bit. “I wouldn’t say it quite like that—I’ve never called you an ‘ox-man’ before!” But he might as well have, at least in the beginning. He’d considered The Iron Bull as little more than an attractive decoration to have around the house, more valuable for the aesthetics of his muscles than his actual status as a bodyguard. He’d barely even thought of the other as a person, even while he himself considered him liberal in terms of treatment of his slaves.

“I’ve got to admit; I find the idea of pounding a fiery Senator into his mattress pretty hot too. It redefines ‘conquering the Roman Empire’ for me in a real nice way.”

Dorian blinked and then found himself laughing harder than he had in years. Perhaps his entire life. It was just…everything hurt and he felt a mess but somehow Bull managed to make him feel giddy and since when had he ever let anyone make him feel anything quite so strongly? “Please, don’t ever say that anywhere where anyone else could hear you.” His laughs calmed into the occasional peal of chuckles. “Honestly, why am I even still surprised what comes from that mouth of yours?”

“Hey, you like my mouth,” Bull purred, leaning down to kiss him again and, yes, yes Dorian liked it very much. More than he should and yet somehow he was still going to get it.  At least a little bit for a little while.

With that thought, he only hummed into the other’s mouth as encouragement when the Iron Bull’s hands smoothed down his cheeks then down his chest and he gasped as Bull broke away just long enough to murmur low. “This alright?”

“More than,” Dorian breathed. “Though what _exactly_ do you have planned?”

Bull chuckled. “Just want to help you relax and get a little more sleep for the evening. That and I’ve been wanting to get my hand on your cock for a long while.”

Dorian scoffed to stop himself from saying something too emotional but draped his arms over Bull’s broad shoulders, hands curling up to grasp at the other’s horns. “I suppose that sounds agreeable.” His breath hitched as Bull’s hand finally made its way down his stomach and reached his underwear and he arched his hips up to meet the other’s fingers.

“Impatient,” Bull chuckled. “Another day and I’ll be tying you down to keep you from squirming,”—and didn’t that just send a spark of lust through Dorian?—“but for now…”

Dorian groaned low when Bull’s hand finally wrapped around him and he leaned his head back. It had been far, far too long since he’d had anyone else touching him in such an intimate way and he wouldn’t have been able to stop his hitching moans and gasps if he’d tried. Sore as he was, it still took him an embarrassingly short time to become fully hard.

Through it all, Bull peppered his lips and jaw and collarbone with kisses and it was disgustingly sweet and not at all what he had expected when he had considered sex with the Iron Bull. This wasn’t being fucked against a wall—it was something far more dangerous.

He came with a soft, wordless cry, spilling across Bull’s hand. The Qunari, for his part, just grabbed a nearby cloth from a small pile Stitches had stacked in a basket and wiped himself off. His expression, though, was fond and he pulled the thin blanket back over Dorian and ran his fingers through his hair. “Get some rest, big guy. If you can get into a carriage in the morning, we can get you and Felix out of here.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side: For those that are on Tumblr, I just dusted off mine and am ready to discuss all things Dragon Age (and other older fandoms, as well!) https://www.tumblr.com/blog/loquitorlatinae

Dorian did as he was told. In all honesty, his exhaustion had been so complete that he hadn’t been able to anything but fall straight asleep.

He woke to the Iron Bull shaking his shoulder, his deep voice lowered to a whisper as the Qunari’s broad, grey frame filled his field of vision. “Wake up. It’s just before dawn and if you feel fit enough to walk then we should probably get going.”

Dorian’s brows furrowed as he tried to remember just what it was Bull was talking about. When his mind finally caught up, however, his eyes went wide and he nodded. “I can walk.” He would have to at least. To prove to himself and his bodyguard that it was possible, Dorian heaved himself upright then swung his legs off the side of the cot. The motion alone had caused all his muscles to stretch in a particularly uncomfortable way and made him grunt in pain and take a moment to breathe.

Bull gave him the time and to his credit didn’t tell Dorian to get back into bed. Instead, he stood by the bedside, expression stern as Dorian finally gathered the energy to stand.

Dorian couldn’t help but notice that the Qunari was wearing his shoulder pauldron and had his battle axe strapped to his back. He wobbled once then found his footing and smiled ruefully. “It’s not so bad—I’ve had much worse experiences from over indulging in wine. Is the carriage outside?”

Bull nodded.  “It’s waiting out on the street.”

“Good.” Only a few steps. He could sense Bull just behind him, undoubtedly ready to swoop in if he needed to should Dorian collapse but Dorian managed to keep his footing. As he pushed past the curtain into the next room, his brows rose at the sight of Stiches moving about, packing a small satchel with various herbs and vials and tools.

A questioning look in Bull’s direction and his bodyguard nodded sternly, expression barring arguments. “Stitches is coming with us to continue your medical care. Both you and Felix should be looked after during the trip. I managed to track down horses for everyone who’s not in the carriage, though, so you don’t have to worry about the pace of the trip.”

“Everyone?”

The question left his lips just as he stepped out onto the street and he stopped in his tracks to see not only a carriage waiting for him but also Cremisius Aclassi sitting tense in the driver’s seat and Attia on a pony beside a massive horse that could only be reserved for Bull. At the sight of him, Cremisius bobbed his head stiffly, his voice soft and quiet in the early morning hours, “Senator.”

“Cremisius, what are you doing--”

“I pulled Krem in for this trip,” Bull said. “Someone’s still trying to kill you and Krem did a decent enough job fighting during the assassination attempt that he was the best guy for the job on such short notice. Get in the carriage, Dorian.”

“You do remember you are my slave.” Dorian ignored the fact that he was climbing up into the covered carriage as he chided the Qunari. “And I didn’t realize you knew the Aclassi family.”

Bull’s lips crooked up in a smirk as he watched Dorian settle on the cushioned bench. “We had some time to talk while you were passed out. Turns out he’s an interesting guy. You got some good clients.”

Dorian chuckled and leaned his head back, taking a deep breath as the pain in his shoulder settled back down after the movement. “Well, I do insist on only collecting the very best of everything and have impeccable taste. Speaking of which, did the silk make it through the attack?”

“A bit of dirt on it, but I think it pulled through.”

“What a relief. I think I’ll have Marcus Aclassi sew a new set of bedding with it. And perhaps a tunic I can wear about the house.”

“You would look good in silk.”

“I look good in everything.” Cracking an eye open, Dorian smiled at Bull then motioned him to lean forward into the carriage. When Bull obeyed, Dorian pressed a sly kiss on the other’s lips then settled back into his seat. “Get Stitches in here then let’s be off. I want to know when we reach the Alexius mansion. Undoubtedly, Gereon will still be asleep but I want to go in and fetch Felix so that he’s not frightened by some stranger. Is that understood?”

“Understood, boss. Get some rest.”

Dorian did as much, even though the trip between his and the Alexius _domus_ was a swift one on horseback with the streets as empty as they were so early in the morning. Their carriage had to navigate around the occasional group of farmers or merchants trying to get into the city before the markets opened for the day and Dorian peeked out once to see that when they passed other people, their party would close defensively around the carriage as if daring anyone to make an attack. Dorian thought it a little overbearing but, then again, he _had_ been attacked in his own home.

When the carriage finally pulled to a stop, Dorian took a deep breath to steady himself together and then pushed open the door.

The street, even the air itself, was quiet. This street was dedicated to the wealthy elite and though there were certainly a slave or two awake to prepare breakfast, not even they were required to leave the house so early.

Bull appeared at his side, having almost soundlessly dismounted, and Dorian took his hand with a grumble and blush as he stepped down to the paved street. “We’ll be right back,” Dorian told the rest of the group, happy enough to take control again. “Prepare for a swift flight out of Rome.”

With that, he led the way into the Alexius mansion. The atrium was abandoned at such an early hour and Dorian was grateful for it. He wasn’t sure if he could come up with anything clever while he was as tired and sore as he was. Finding it empty, Dorian spun around to the Iron Bull and set his hand on his chest. “Stay here and keep an eye out for our exit route. Make sure no one slips into the house after us. I’d rather like a smooth getaway.”

Bull’s brows furrowed and he shifted his weight as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I don’t like the thought of you going in there alone,” he rumbled, keeping his voice as quiet as Dorian was.

“Please, everyone is asleep. The greatest risk I will face is Felix flailing about as I wake him up. We will be in and out of here like ghosts and even if Gereon is partially behind the assassination attempt, he will not have scheduled a constant mercenary watch over his own household.”

Bull snorted but after a moment of consideration he nodded. “Alright but make it quick.”

“Remember who is the master, Bull,” The statement was softened by the curl of his lip. “I will be but a moment.”

His familiarity with the home was a great advantage to him now as he slipped through in near silence, the only sound the soft pad of his sandals against the stone floor. Dorian quickly made his way to the private area of the mansion, using the servant’s passageway from the dining room so that he would not walk directly past Gereon’s bedroom and risk waking him, and pushed open Felix’s door with only a quick and quiet knock.

It was clear that Felix had barely woke at the knock but had propped himself upright as the door opened, eyes hazy with fevered sleep. “D’rian?” He slurred, eloquence slowly returning after he blinked a few more times. “Dorian, what are you…? What happened? I thought we were meant to leave yesterday?”

“We were, I know, and I apologize.” Dorian moved into the room and crouched beside Felix’s bed. He grabbed at the man’s hand. “Felix, someone tried to have me murdered the morning before last."

“Gods, Dorian-!”

“I survived, if not with a bit of a bad shoulder. But, come, we need to leave, for the benefit of both of our health, it would seem. Are your things packed?”

“Yes, in my trunk.”

Dorian shuffled over to the other’s trunk and opened it to find a bundle of fabric, undoubtedly wrapped around smaller items to keep them safe. It was small and lightweight which told Dorian that Felix was taking this as seriously as he had hoped.

By the time he had turned back around, Felix had swung his feet onto the tiled floor. He was breathing heavily as if that small movement alone had exhausted him and Dorian tucked the other’s travel supplies under his arm then moved to his side, brows furrowed. “Are you well enough to walk?”

“I can make it to the front door. I think.”

“You can.”

The smile he received in return was fond but uncertain and Dorian returned it with one of confidence and wrapped his arm around Felix’s even as it stretched his wound somewhat uncomfortably. Balancing the other’s weight—he was far lighter than Dorian remembered than when he had been healthier—they left the bedroom and stepped into the hallway. Felix’s steps were slow but he seemed determined to leave the house on his own power and Dorian gave him that dignity.

Again, Dorian took the longer way so as not to make noise near Gereon’s room. It was just a short distance more to Bull and the exit. “You’ll finally get to meet the Iron Bull,” Dorian murmured, a small smile on his lips.

“I am honored to finally have the opportunity.”

“I am afraid you will not be getting that opportunity, Felix.”

The new voice made Dorian stop, ice filling his veins as he turned to find Gereon sitting on the farthest dining couch, a man in light leather armor behind him. Once he had made himself known, Gereon took a moment to light an oil lamp that had been set out on the table, understanding, undoubtedly, that Dorian and Felix would not be able to run given his son’s condition.

The older man sounded almost bored as he leaned back though there was an intensity to his gaze that spoke of dangerous intentions. “Honestly, I thought you would have been here much earlier. You’re cutting your timing fairly close, Dorian. And how are your injuries? I heard you had managed to survive the attack.”

“No thanks to you,” Dorian rasped, eyes snapping between Gereon and the man behind him who had to be another Antivan Crow. “I can’t believe you would stoop so low as to plot with Danarius to have me killed for holding a differing opinion. That seems rather low for someone of your class.”

Gereon stared at him for a moment then shook his head with a low rumbling laugh that sent a shiver down Dorian’s spine. “Is that what you think? You naïve fool—do you really think that Danarius is at all threatened by your pretty words in the Senate? He thinks you a young and idealistic supporter of the plebeians but knows you have no real sway over the proceedings but I chose to save him the headache anyway.”

Felix had gone still but lurched forward now and put himself between his friend and father. “Please tell me you did not attempt to assassinate Dorian for _politics_.” He spit the word out and Dorian could see him trembling. “Father, Dorian has been like a member of this family! How could you?”

His son’s despair seemed to have actually touched Gereon as he frowned. The expression was more condescending than anything else. “How could I? How could I stop a man who was coercing you into running away, risking your life on needless travel?” Gereon stood, the folds of his toga—and of course the man would wear his toga even so early in the morning, he would never demean himself to wear a simple tunic—draping about him imperiously. “You knew I would never stand for it.”

“You found the letters,” Dorian realized aloud, his throat clenching. He and Felix had so extensively discussed their escape plan that Gereon would have been able to see it all coming. It was why the assassination attempt had taken place the day before he had been scheduled to retrieve Felix.

Felix looked back to Dorian with wide eyes before his jaw set and he turned back to his father, voice hardly above a whisper. “Those reached my hands sealed with Dorian’s mark. I kept those letters in my trunk. They were not yours to read.”

The declaration seemed to only make Gereon more disappointed and he shook his head again. “My boy, you are in no condition to be receiving any volume of correspondence. I had to check on them while you were sleeping to be certain you were not being overwhelmed and it was a good thing I did. Now, go back to bed. It is far too early for you to be awake.”

“I will not.”

“Then I am sorry, but this must be done. Taliesen, do your job but make it as quick as possible. I have no interest in distressing my son for longer than what is necessary.”

The assassin finally moved, changing from still to action so fast Dorian would not have been able to react if he had not already been on pins and needles. As it was, he spun out of the way just quickly enough to avoid a knife to the chest.

Falling against the wall, Dorian fumbled about for a weapon and his hand wrapped around one of the metal floor sconces. It was nearly as tall as he was and heavy but adrenaline kicked in despite his aching shoulder and he brought the metal up just fast enough to block another strike. He managed to swing the sconce out and catch the Crow in the side, knocking him to the side, giving him just enough time to suck in a breath and shout for Bull as loud as he could and then swing up to parry another blow. He wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid a cut to the top of his hand but it was better than the stab to his neck the assassin had intended.

A thundering behind him was the only warning any of them received before the Iron Bull hurdled into the dining room. He slammed the assassin into the wall with a roar of anger and Dorian let the sconce clatter to the floor, the force of it breaking the mosaic tiles. Dorian hardly noticed, eyes wide and attention on the scene before him as Bull punched the Crow again and again, fist swinging like a man possessed.

Dorian was about to tell Bull to stop when the Qunari unhooked his axe and cleaved the man’s head clean from his body. His swing had been so strong that he had to pull the axe from the plaster and brickwork of the wall and Dorian pressed his lips tightly together to hold back a noise of disgust as the assassin’s head hit the floor with a sickeningly bloody thump.

It wasn’t until Bull rounded on Alexius that Felix released a strangled sound and Dorian snapped back to himself and grabbed his bodyguard’s thick arm. Bull actually _growled_ and jerked toward him, eyes wild.

“Leave him be,” Dorian implored. “I will not have the murder of a Senator on your head—I will not be able to protect you from that!”

Bull snorted but lowered his axe. It didn’t stop him from storming up to Alexius, though, and wrap a hand around the older man’s throat. “If I hear you so much as look at Dorian the wrong way, I will track you down and kill you as painfully as I can imagine.” He snarled. “You don’t even want to know all the ways I’ve thought to destroy you soft Roman bastards so don’t try and test me again. The only reason you’re surviving today is because of Dorian so I want to see you kissing his ass for at least a year.”

When Gereon nodded as best he could, Bull dropped him, sending him back to the dining couch gasping and limp as a rag doll. Seeing that the danger for Alexius was over—because as much as he had been hurt, Dorian had no real interest in murdering the man who had once been like a second father to him—Dorian motioned to Felix. “Come along, we need to get to get the carriage out of the city before dawn.”

Felix had been staring at his father but at Dorian’s words he started then nodded and stumbled from the room, Dorian on his heels and Bull behind them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who followed along with this story! I wasn't able to write it as quickly as I would have preferred but had a lot of fun writing it! :D

The trip to Perivantium took two long days. They had been forced to spend the night at a roadside inn which had just been a terribly plebian experience as far as Dorian was concerned. They hadn’t been able to take the risk of requesting a room from the local patricians, though, unsure as to how far Alexius’s influence went. It was entirely possible that the older senator set traps for them along the way. Dorian wouldn’t have put it past him.

The fact that both Bull and Felix agreed with his paranoia was almost more disturbing than the concern itself.

The solution of the inn had been the lesser of two evils. Everything smelled like wet dog, or smoke, or piss. Dirt and smoke stained the walls and the other patrons of both the attached tavern and the inn had been quiet and surly at best, drunken and bawdry at worst. The food was cheap and watered down, the wine so pale Dorian could only hope that there was enough alcohol in the amount he drank to kill whatever disease was undoubtedly in the water. It was obvious that he, Felix, and Attia were not natives of the environment and Dorian had been sure to keep the elf close until the moment they all retired to their rooms. He was also sure that the only reason they had not been mugged right there in the tavern had been Bull’s intimidating presence and that both his bodyguard and Krem were visibly carrying weapons. Even Stitches had a dagger on his belt.

They had rented the best rooms still available but, even so, it meant that he, Felix ,and Bull shared a room while Attia, Krem, and Stitches shared another. In his own case, he and Felix had shared a bed while Bull slept on a mat on the floor in front of the door. The Qunari’s bulk blocking the entrance was comforting and Dorian suspected it was the one thing that allowed him to actually get any rest.

The morning after sleeping on that decrepit bed, everything was sore and aching and Felix appeared as sickly as Dorian felt but the carriage was a better option than another minute at the inn. He and Felix had napped in the carriage despite the bumps and jolts of the road and he had felt a significantly better when he awoke to find that a few hours had passed and that it was mid-afternoon.

Stitches turned out to be a decent conversationalist for being of the lower class and they discussed recent political decisions in the Senate and how they had echoed down into the streets of Rome and then drifted into the conversation of herbology which Dorian knew little about save for the fact that he owned both a domus and villa with garden space to spare. It was still an intriguing subject, though, and Dorian promised Stitches that he could use some of his garden space to grow plants he might need.

Despite the pleasant talk, Dorian felt a tangible relief flood his body when Perivantium and his villa finally came into view. He roused Felix who woke with a shudder and low groan that was somewhat worrying but not enough to spoil the mood as Felix himself perked up once that told they were nearly at their destination.

Pulling into the villa’s gate was almost surreal after the challenges of the past few days. The Pavus family had at one time vacationed entire summers here in Dorian’s youth. The tradition had stopped after the death of his parents—Dorian found the idea of leaving an already-too-large home for an even larger one disagreeable.

The building itself was a multi-storied, sprawling masterpiece of Roman architecture. It was not quite as towering as the temples or municipal buildings in the city of Rome or the royal palaces that dotted the coasts but it was close with its thick exterior defensive walls and multiple wings. It provided everything a family of status could need: stable, personal bath house, multiple gardens, a vineyard, library, eel and fish ponds, and enough bedrooms to comfortably house near fifty people if one included the slaves.

There were obvious signs of neglect. The gardens were overgrown and wild, tufts of grass and weeds having long escaped their confines were now breaking apart the paved drive and climbing up the outer walls and sides of the villa. The plaster on the walls was cracked in places and an empty and haunted feel seemed to hover in the air.

Despite everything, it seemed a perfect haven and Dorian was the first out of the carriage as soon as Bull opened the door, taking the Qunari’s helping hand to step out of the carriage without tripping over himself in his anxiousness. “Finally,” he breathed, letting his hand slide from Bull’s larger one up his grey arm before he pulled away.

He approached the front doors as Krem and Attia dismounted and as he reached for the handle found Bull suddenly at his side.

“You think someone would be lying in wait?” He asked.

As soon as the words left his lips, Dorian knew them naïve. Alexius had not been shy about sending assassin’s to his mansion in Rome proper—there would be no reason why he might not also have some stationed here.

“I’m betting not, but we can’t be too careful,” Bull rumbled. “I’ll do a walkthrough of the place to be sure.”

“Yes, well, start with the atrium and guest rooms adjacent to it. I want to get Felix into a bed as soon as possible.” Dorian paused a moment before his mustache twitched and his lip curled up. “And perhaps,” he murmured, voice lowering, “you should hurry with your walkthrough. I am exhausted myself but I…” He cleared his throat then tried again. “Finish your walkthrough and then find me in the master bedroom just down the hall, south of the atrium.”

“Got it, boss.” The Iron Bull had the nerve to wink and Dorian before he marched into the villa as if he owned it—or as if there were an invading army waiting inside—and Dorian forced himself to turn back to the others. Stitches was supporting Felix with one of the patrician’s arms draped over his shoulder while Krem and Attia rounded up the horses and carriages. Deciding that he would much rather help with his friend than stabling the horses, Dorian helped the doctor usher Felix into one of the first rooms attached to the atrium.

It was a nice room, if not a little derelict. Dorian had to blow off a layer of dust from a trunk along the side of the wall beside the bed but the rolled mattress pad, blankets, and pillow inside it were in decent condition.

“Here we are,” Dorian murmured soothingly as he laid out the feather-stuffed mattress pad. He hovered as Felix slid from Stitches’s grasp and slumped onto the bed with a relieved groan then tucked his friend under the covers much to both of their amusement.

“You are a mother hen,” Felix accused, a smile on his lips even as he dropped his head back against the pillow.

With an overly dramatic huff, Dorian flapped his hand at the other patrician. “Lies and slander. I won’t stand for it. I will leave you to the rough hands of the help,” he skillfully ignored Stitches’s grumble, “and see to pampering myself after such a tiring journey.”

“I’ll be fine, Dorian. I just need a bit of rest.”

“So you say,” It was not quite so convincing when Felix was so pale-nearly-grey. But the man had survived the inn and now he was in a clean bed and could receive active care. Patting Felix on the shoulder, Dorian turned to Stitches. “Take care of him tonight. I will send Krem out to the town of Perivantium for supplies tomorrow and expect a list of what you will need for the upcoming week and a half that we will stay here.”

After he received a nod from Stitches and saw that Felix was already asleep Dorian took his leave after one last glance. The sight of his friend in the bed—safe, relaxed—made him think that this trip was worth it. Not that Felix had necessarily been in any danger at home but now, knowing the depths Alexius would go to in order to “protect his son,” Dorian would much rather have Felix under a Pavus roof.

Stepping back into the atrium, Dorian smiled when he found that Attia had found a broom somewhere and was sweeping the tiled floor of the dust and leaves that had fallen in from the opening overhead. “I appreciate the proactive intentions but this could wait for tomorrow morning, my dear.”

Attia smiled and shook her head. “I would rather get it done this evening, Master. There is so much of this villa that needs to be cleaned up and I will sleep better knowing that I have at least started on something. I set up some rations in the master bedroom and set out the last bottle of wine.” She ducked her head. “Let me know if you require anything else.”

“I need you to be less industrious,” Dorian teased. “You make me feel lazy. That should be sufficient. Knock if you need anything. I also want you staying close so make your bed up in one of the guest rooms here off the atrium instead of back in the slave quarters, understood?”

Attia’s ears had flicked up in surprise but she bobbed her head in a nod. “Yes, Master. Thank you.”

Dorian nodded in return then left the elf to her work and retired to the master bedroom. It was the first time he had actually stepped into the room. The last time he had been at the villa, his parents had both been alive and had occupied the space. It was slightly larger than the other bedrooms and contained not only a large, metal frame bed which, most likely Attia had furnished with a mattress and both cotton and fur blankets, but also a small vanity in the corner of the room as well as some shelves lined with dusty scrolls. The final piece of furniture was a table with a few stools set around it and, as Attia had promised, there was a small feast of some of the remaining cured meats, bread, olive oil, and cheese that they had purchased on the road along with an unopened bottle of wine and a cup. The first thing Dorian did was pour himself some wine and drink half the cup in one go before he pulled off a chunk of the bread and cheese and devoured it quickly.

After he had a bit of food in his stomach, he relaxed and took his time to inspect what had to be his father’s collection of manuscripts as he sipped at the wine and waited. What would happen when Bull returned, he wasn’t sure. Dorian knew what he wanted, what had been a long time coming, but he still had his pride. And his morals. As independent and flirtatious as Bull was, the Qunari was still his slave and Dorian had made a promise to himself that he would never take advantage of anyone that he owned. Though the Iron Bull was making his interest well known. But did he truly mean it? Bull had indulged him already with a bit of foreplay and an easy orgasm, but actually engaging in intercourse was another thing entirely.

Dorian spent about half an hour with his circular thoughts until the door opened and Dorian turned to find Bull filling the doorway. Despite his internal debate, he maintained as cool an exterior as he could and raised a somewhat condescending brow and set his empty cup down onto the table. “The villa is secure, then?”

“As good as I can tell,” Bull snorted, ducking and twisting his head to get his horns inside without bumping the doorframe. “This place is too big, though. If someone wanted to hide, they could. We’ll need extra hands if we want to keep it really secure.”

“Sound advice.” Taking a breath, Dorian glanced up at Bull’s face before he waved to the table and returned to a surreptitious inspection of the manuscripts. “Food? Drink? You must be tired after such a long ride.”

“Not too tired.” The other’s voice was warm and Dorian stiffened when he heard Bull approach from behind. He could feel the other’s body heat behind him and Dorian swallowed as Bull’s voice rang nearly directly in his ear. “You really are something.”

Dorian sucked in a breath when the Iron Bull suddenly grabbed his wrist and spun him around. His pulse spiked as he noted how large Bull’s hand was, making his wrist look almost dainty and he followed it back to Bull’s face.

The Qunari was looking at him in a way that made his stomach clench. “How do you normally find partners if you don’t fuck your slaves?” Bull asked, blunt as ever. “I can’t imagine too many senators’ sons would be up for one-night trysts.”

“A slave has no free will in the matter. If I commanded you to get into my bed, you would either have to obey or face a beating or, worse—off to the salt mines, perhaps, if you are lucky.” Dorian tried to keep his voice flippant but he found it too difficult to actually look Bull in the eyes. “If not, I would not get more than a slap on the wrist for killing you. At least the whores who frequent bath houses and brothels can be paid for their services.”

“So you’re going to take the high road and just offer me dinner even if it means missing out on a great fuck?” Bull stared at him for a long moment then grinned and tightened his grip around Dorian’s wrist until it was just short of painful. “You know, you might be a fancy senator out in public but right now you’re a human just like any pleb. Or slave. I’m also a lot bigger than you. Maybe,” he tugged Dorian close until they were pressed together hips to chest. Dorian could feel the other’s hardness against his thigh and was both mortified and excited to realize Bull could most likely feel his own erection. “Maybe I’ll just make you sleep with me. You’re awful pretty.”

Dorian swallowed as he tried to grasp on what was happening. Would Bull actually…? But, no. Bull had grabbed him by his uninjured arm. This was a façade Bull was building to try and ease what remained of Dorian’s ethics.

Dorian’s mustache twitched as his lip curled up just slightly. “You brute,” he rasped. “You save my life and not two days later threaten to ravish me?”

“Well, you know what they say about Qunari. We’re just big, stupid, sex-crazed animals.” As he spoke, Bull backed Dorian away from the wall until Dorian’s calves hit the bed frame and he toppled back onto the mattress and fur blankets. For a brief moment, as Bull looked down at him, Dorian saw his predatory expression slip from his face and Bull huffed out a quiet laugh. “You want to stop, you just say ‘katoh.’”

Dorian blinked when he realized Bull was waiting for a response and nodded. “I will.”

Bull returned the nod and then, nearly faster than Dorian could track, the Iron Bull lunged forward and grabbed both of Dorian’s wrists, pinning them above Dorian’s head as he rumbled low. “I bet you’ve been fucked before but I don’t think you’ve ever really gotten any good action with your title and jewelry. But I don’t give a rat’s ass that you’re a senator. I don’t even care that you own me on paper. I’m gonna make you scream.”

Dorian’s breath hitched at the other’s words and he tugged at his wrists, testing the other’s hold on him, a thrill going through him when he found it unyielding though the position was not so strenuous that it made even his injured shoulder ache too terribly. His attention snapped back to the present when Bull used his free hand to push Dorian’s tunic up to his chest and he arched his back into the touch. “Bull!”

“I’ve got you,” The Iron Bull rumbled, pressing Dorian back down onto the bed as he leaned down and nipped at his jaw. “Quit moving around and I’ll get to the good stuff.”

Dorian obeyed the command even if the mere act of doing so made him flush, cheeks and chest darkening. It seemed to amuse Bull since he chuckled low and reached down to grasp Dorian’s erection which made him cry out. A few pumps had him steadily groaning, writhing against his touch and just as Dorian was beginning to feel his climax pooling at the base of his spine, Bull pulled back and Dorian’s moans hitched into a whine as the other had the audacity to step away from the bed.

“Keep your arms up above your head,” Bull commanded. Dorian watched from the bed as the Qunari kicked of his own loose breeches then sauntered over to the table and perused the selection of food before he idly picked up the small bottle of olive oil. It wasn’t until he took a bite from the loaf of bread that Dorian growled.

“You are being intentionally slow.”

Bull grinned at the accusation and meandered his way back to the bed. “I like how you look when you’re all undone like this. Can’t blame me for wanting to make it last.”

“I certainly can and will!” Dorian groused, mollified only when Bull climbed back onto the mattress. Then Bull was moving lightning fast again, apparently just to catch Dorian off-guard as he pushed Dorian’s legs up to his chest.

At the first press of a thick, oiled finger at his entrance, Dorian’s hands flew up from where they were clasped and he grasped at Bull’s horns. Bull chuckled but didn’t reprimand him as Dorian had been expecting—instead, he simply carried on with his preparations, if a little rougher than what Dorian was used to. But Bull balanced that edge between pleasure of pain masterfully and by the time he was working three fingers inside Dorian was writhing again and gasping out curses.

By the time Bull pushed into him, Dorian could feel his climax approaching again but just as he was about to come, Bull wrapped one of his broad hands around his length and halted him in his final seconds.

Dorian hissed at the sensation, having never been so restricted and both irritated and aroused by the shock it sent through his body. The sound of dismay turned to a low, tortured groan as Bull began to thrust into him, building to a speed that made the bed frame creak and threaten to break. It took mere minutes for Bull to catch up to him and release his hold but the second he did, Dorian spilled across both their stomachs with a sharp gasp as Bull grunted low in his throat.

The next thing Dorian was aware of was Bull wiping him off with a damp cloth and a gentle touch to his bad shoulder followed by a graveled, “How’s the arm?”

“Not the only thing that aches at the moment,” Dorian slurred, batting at Bull’s touch. “Do stop fussing and lay down, you’re far too energetic...”

There was a pause before the mattress dipped beside him and a moment later a thick arm draped across Dorian’s torso, a weight that was as welcome in his warm haze as Bull’s lips against his temple. “Alright. Get some sleep.”

 

* * *

 

 

The days had passed far too quickly at the villa. Dorian had forgotten how nice the countryside could be. Or, perhaps, he had never known. Though they were only scheduled to be there a short time, Attia and Stitches had taken it upon themselves to cut into the garden as a miniature renovation project. Krem and Bull assisted pulling the larger roots and tangled weeds but otherwise kept themselves occupied by keeping vigilant watch for any trespassers after chasing away one on the third day of their stay.

Dorian kept mostly to the library with Felix who had claimed a couch by the largest window to allow in sun and fresh breezes. Felix’s recovery from the travel had been swift and he had seemed eager to move about the villa, walking for longer periods of time and farther than his father had ever allowed him. Even if it left him exhausted in the evenings, Dorian couldn’t fault him for wanting some exercise where he could get it.

He had also been responding well to a concoction Stitches and Bull began brewing beginning their first full day there. Dorian couldn’t guess what was in it—it was a vibrant yellow-orange in color but so heavily spiced with cardamom, honey, and ginger that Felix actually seemed to enjoy it. He was getting some color back in his cheeks and for that Dorian would hardly question the recipe of some exotic Qunari remedy.

With Felix feeling healthier, Dorian was able to use him as a sounding board for his practice speeches for his time in the Senate. The Pavus library helped immensely in tracking down examples of how the current rights allotted to freedmen and their decedents actually aided the economy and labor sector and legal cases where the Senate had determined on individual bases to expand the rights allowed to individuals rather than restrict them. It was always good to have a precedent set.

Speaking of precedent, he and Bull had been enjoying each other’s company each evening after that first night together. Even more than a week later, Dorian still flushed at the memory of the looks they had originally received at breakfast but it had been well worth it. Bull was…extraordinary. Which Dorian had already known, but, gods, the Qunari knew just how to perform in bed. Dorian had never experienced anything like it which brought up a whole slew of new problems.

It was very much the truth now that Dorian was sleeping with one of his slaves. Which was something he had told himself that would always be beneath him. It was different, surely, then the sort of relationships other patricians had with their slaves. Dorian saw Bull as a person. They respected each other. Very much nearing the point of love.

On paper, however, it was a different matter entirely and Dorian couldn’t help but think himself hypocritical. Here he was researching and writing speeches advocating the rights of freed slaves and yet he was, what, keeping the Iron Bull as a slave even while he had feelings for him?

But would Bull leave once he was free? There was a chance that Bull was sleeping with him for the safety of it—it was better to encourage a master’s preferences and habits rather than to hinder them, after all.

And yet…

It was the last night of their stay at the villa and Dorian had long since thrown back the blankets away from his body, welcoming the evening breeze coming in through the window. It certainly didn’t help matters that Bull was nearly as hot as a furnace in his own right but Dorian was far too lazy to kick him out of the bed.

Steadying his breath, Dorian closed his eyes, relishing the way tremors still ran through his body in echoes of his latest orgasm. Still, reality came back to him, bittersweet, when he felt thick fingers, several of them noticeably stunted, carding through his hair and he opened his eyes to find Bull propped up on his side and watching him with an expression Dorian didn’t want to identify.

Instead, he closed his eyes again and took a steadying breath. “Bull?”

The Iron Bull grunted a questioning noise in return when Dorian paused but otherwise waited for him to continue.

“…You were a soldier before the arena, weren’t you?”

“Mhm. Fought in Seheron.”

“If you had not been captured, would you still be a soldier with the Qun? Is that a…career goal of yours? Soldiering? Do they have a centurion equivalent under the Qun? I apologize, my knowledge of foreign militaries is nearly as abysmal as my interest in the activities of the Legion—“

Bull interrupted him with a low chuckle. “I was a soldier because that was my job, though there is something satisfying about bashing someone’s head in once in a while. But you’re rambling. It’s cute. What’s bothering you?”

Dorian bristled, though it was more for show than anything else. “I am not _rambling_ , I am orating. It is what a Senator _does_ , I’ll have you know. But…well…Fasta vass, Bull, this can’t continue.” Bull’s hand had stilled and his expression had settled into something distinctly neutral. “As much as I would like to assume you are enjoying this, how can you really? Despite how wonderful of a partner I am, I still own you. And if I didn’t own you, would you have at all been interested in this? At the same time I cannot tolerate the idea that I have the feelings that I have while I might be simultaneously making a fool of myself if this is all just an act of survival for you?”

Dorian cut himself off when Bull cupped his cheek and turned his face, realizing only then that he was breathing too quickly. Then Bull was leaning in and they were kissing. For the first time since they had been at the villa, Dorian recognized, the thought coming almost too late to appreciate it before Bull pulled back. “Are you thinking about freeing me to make sure I’m having sex with you for the right reasons?” he asked, tone rumbling with a hidden chuckle.

“That depends. Would you return to your barbarian head bashing in Seheron if I did—because then I would be disinclined.”

Bull snorted and dipped back down for another kiss which Dorian tipped his head up to meet halfway. “Nah, I’ve got a pretty good gig here. Though if I’m a freeman, I’d have to charge you and I have to warn you, I’d be damn expensive. I’ve got this pretty, posh man in my life who needs to be kept in silks and fancy perfumes.”

Dorian couldn’t help but laugh, relief threatening to turn his happiness to hysteria. “Perhaps I will just take room and board from your salary. And I did already purchase your weapons for you—you may be in a deficit.”

“Damn, I’ll just have to get creative with my presents, then. But if I get a say in it, then I’m saying I’ll need to bring more people on, even when we go back into Rome. Especially when we do that.”

“Yes, yes, of course. But you would stay, then?”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, kadan, so long as you’ll have me.”

Dorian’s lips curled up into a smile and he pressed a kiss to Bull’s lips again, unable to stop now that he had gotten a taste. “Then, amatus, you will be with me for a very long time.”


End file.
